


Sizzle

by Yuval25



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bar, Cute, First Kiss, Hot, Humor, Incest, M/M, Quick Man If You Love Me, Slash, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-12-16 08:20:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11824767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yuval25/pseuds/Yuval25
Summary: "Shit, dude, you have to kiss me."Sam choked, beer spraying everywhere. "Dude, no!""There's this girl here who I used to hook up with except she's bat shit crazy and I had to tell her I was gay to break things off," Dean hissed into Sam's ear, the hand in Sam's hair tightening. "So either get ready to knock that two hundred pound fucking women league sumo wrestler to the ground or help me preserve my alibi and fucking kiss me."





	Sizzle

**Author's Note:**

> I take full responsibility for this madness. I have no idea where that came from.  
> It's past 3 AM and this seemed like a good idea, so I rolled with it.  
> Be a dear and leave a review with your thoughts :)  
> PS - not beta'ed or edited, since it's three in the morning and my pillow is soft as cotton candy so yeah bye apologies in advance for any mistakes aaaaand I hope you enjoy Sam'n'Dean sittin' in a tree...

"So it was your brother?" Dean asked, straight-faced and bright-eyed. Sam couldn't stop himself from staring. His brother was dressed in the most casual way, faded loose jeans and a plaid flannel over a gray undershirt, but his stubble was dark and his eyes sharp, his lips red from pursing them so much ever since he ate that gummy pop candy that he told Sam – with a wide, wonderstruck grin – made his lips feel tingly. Sam was surprised the ladies in the club managed to keep their hands – mostly – to themselves tonight. Honestly, he was done being jealous over his brother getting more attention from girls than he did. He was done before he even got started, since Dean had a four year head start and had already had sex with a girl by the time Sam finished sixth grade.

"I don't know what it was," answered the bartender, busy pouring beer from the tap for a woman in a blue dress on Sam's right. "He looked like my brother, but James would never say what he said. He loves Emily."

Dean nodded sympathetically, pretending to take a drink from the beer he had in front of him while Sam did the same, keeping an eye out for anything that had the misfortune of trying to attack them in this crowded, darkened room.

"Maybe it was like an evil twin or something," Sam contributed, taking a sip for real because the room seemed clear and by the taste of it, the beer was watered. "I've heard sometimes when a person sees someone they think they know, the brain releases chemicals that smell like rotten eggs and stuff," he slurs a little, just for show.

The bartender frowned, placing the glass down carefully next to the happily chatting woman before pulling a washcloth from under the bar and wetting it under the tap. He started making wide swipes of the cloth on the bar top, cleaning it as he spoke. "I don't know. He smelled fine. Except for his eyes…"

"His eyes?" Dean jumped on the clue.

"Yeah," the bartender hesitated, "For a moment there, I thought for sure I'd seen them flicker. Like red eyes on camera, you know?"

Sam and Dean shared a meaningful look, before Dean turned to the bartender again.

"Happens, man. I'm sure it's fine."

Sam nodded along, happy to let his brother seal the conversation.

"Dude," Dean said once the bartender had wandered off to another section of the long bar to take care of the customers there. "Shifter."

"Sounds like it."

"Man, his brother's probably tied up somewhere," the 'or dead' was left unsaid, because neither of them wanted to jinx it. Sometimes jinxing it is a real thing.

"At least the fiancée managed to get away."

"Ex-fiancée, now, I would think."

Sam winced. "Chances are he's already moved on and taken another shape. He could look like anyone."

Dean groaned. "This sucks."

"We should head to bed soon, get an early start on the case tomorrow."

" _You_ should head to bed soon, it's way past your bedtime, Sammy," Dean smirked, and Sam scowled. "Oh, don't make that face. You get cranky on less than four hours of sleep."

"What about you?" Sam asked, infuriatingly petulantly, feeling like the ten year old who got ushered to bed by Dean whenever his older brother wanted to watch the porn channel without his kid brother interrupting whatever he got up to.

"I've got a beer, some pretty ladies in the crowd, and a young, agile body. I'm staying right here," Dean answered, and Sam glared at him. "But really, Sammy, go back to the motel. Get some rest."

"Are you saying I couldn't get laid?" Sam asked, teeth gritting.

"Puh- _lease_ ," Dean rolled his eyes, pausing to gulp down half his glass of beer before wiping his dripping lower lip with the sleeve of his shirt. "With that stupid impractical height and girly hair? Maybe you'll score with a dude. Which, hey, whatever floats your boat, man." Dean snickered, which only grated on Sam more.

Sam felt heat rise up his body, anger and humiliation and something else he refused to acknowledge. He huffed, letting his shoulders draw closer, hunching in his bar stool and folding his legs a bit to seem a bit less like a New York skyscraper, stomach clenching as he grabbed the handle of his beer glass and brought it to his lips, drinking to quench the pressing urge to snap childishly at Dean.

Dean took in the change in Sam's body posture and the way he let his head hang between his shoulder with the row of his upper teeth digging into his plush bottom lip and an interested, dark emotion flickering in his eyes. Sam only managed to see it because he was – and Dean was, too, to be fair – so deeply, almost unnaturally aware of his brother at any given moment. In his defense, that probably unhealthy amount of attention he paid his brother had saved his lives countless of times before. If it's a blink of 'help me' or a head tilt of 'go there' or the not-very-subtle shout of 'Down!', Sam was ready. However, there was no explainable, acceptable, thinkable reason why his older brother would look at him with such a calculating, heated expression on his face.

"I'm not gay," Sam managed mutter, hoping he'd said it low and quiet enough for Dean to miss.

Dean never missed anything. Sam should have known. "Live and let live, that's all I'm saying."

Sam's brother had his hands spread in a gesture of mock surrender, and it was so cynical that Sam's fingers flexed on the glass handle, wondering how much force he would have to exert to break it.

"Anyway, it's none of my b-" Dean's eyes suddenly widened as they zeroed in on something over Sam's shoulder. Sam took satisfaction in the fact that Dean had to crane his neck a bit to even see over his shoulder, but that satisfaction was short-lived because as soon as Dean opened his mouth again- "Shit, dude, you have to kiss me."

Sam choked, beer spraying everywhere, and he couldn't even gather enough coherency to apologize to the couple that had just passed them on the way to get their drinks. Dean's shirt was dotted with drops of Sam's drink, but he didn't seem to notice, face still urgent and pleading, hand already on Sam's arm dragging him closer as Sam hurriedly put his drink back down on the bar top.

"Dude, no! What?!" Sam let a nervous, incredulous laugh bubble past his lips.

Dean groaned anxiously, using the grip he had on Sam to tug him off the stool and towards Dean. Sam resisted.

"Stop, Dean, what are you-"

Dean's other hand closed around Sam's waist and Sam found himself being pulled flushed against the strong body of his big brother, his own hands fumbling to take hold of Dean's shoulders to push him away, but Dean suddenly had a hand on Sam's hair and was pulling his head down to whisper in Sam's ear.

Dean's breath was hot and humid as it fanned over the naked expanse of Sam's neck and ear, between the strands of his hair at the nape of his neck. Sam suppressed a shiver, but couldn't quite bite back the gasp that escaped his mouth.

"There's this girl here who I used to hook up with except she's bat shit crazy and I had to tell her I was gay to break things off without anyone missing any teeth," Dean hissed into Sam's ear, the hand in Sam's hair tightening and this time Sam couldn't stop the shudder racking up his spine. "So either get ready to knock that two hundred pound fucking women league sumo wrestler to the ground or help me preserve my alibi and fucking kiss me."

Sam sighed, already knowing he was going to do it, little-brother-obedience never more than a strict tone away. Dean had that tone, firm and non-negotiable, one that sounded nothing like Dad's overbearing drill-sergeant commands. Sometimes Sam slammed against that tone with all his might. Mostly though, he just caved. It was instinctual.

Sam leaned in and pressed his lips drily to Dean's unbelievably soft ones, mashing them up and angling his head to make it look more believable even though he kept his mouth very firmly shut. His hands rose to frame Dean's stubbly cheeks, nose bumping against the dip beneath Dean's eye where it met the bridge of his nose. It wasn't that weird. They'd been almost intimately tangled together on more occasions than one, mostly during sparring or brotherly-wrestling. They'd also had that unhealthy mutual-awareness thing going on, and had walked in on each other fucking or jerking off enough times that it felt sort of natural to press himself against his brother's muscled body, to rub their faces together slowly to make it seem as if they were making out deeply and passionately. All in the name of self-preservation.

Through the slits of his eyes, Sam saw Dean peek behind Sam again as Sam angled his head to the right, saw his eyes clench shut once more with an obscene moan that Sam thought was ridiculously over-played. Dean's hands drew him even closer, settling over his back and slowly shifting lower, massaging Sam's muscles over the shirt he wore. Sam groaned as those fingers pressed small circles into the dimples at both sides of his spine, before traveling lower, and Sam jerked backwards when those hands landed on his ass out of nowhere – or not, he really should have seen it coming – and gave it a firm squeeze.

His breath got stuck in his throat and he forgot to keep his lips closed. Before he could reclaim his bearings and remember to push his big brother away after Dean closed the distance Sam had tried to force between them with one quick step, plastering himself against Sam's front once again with another near-painful fondle of Sam's – admittedly – round ass cheeks, Sam felt a slick, warm tongue slip between his open lips and into his mouth, and he felt more than heard the pathetic little whimpering sound he made.

They were making out right now, for real. Tongues battling and stroking each other's, hands roaming and squeezing and teasing along the hem of pants and shirts, heavy breathes, twitching hips real making out.

Sam did not have the first clue how the situation got turned around so dramatically in the span of all of three minutes.

He also had no idea how to backpedal and go back to when things were normal and not borderline incestuous.

He also, and that he could barely even admit to himself inside his own head, had no idea of he even _wanted_ to stop it.

It felt good.

Dean was a good kisser – Sam had always known that, but for some reason he had never connected the fact that Dean apparently kissed like a god to the possibility that getting kissed by Dean might feel good to him as well. It was stupid, because that would seem like the obvious conclusion, but Sam had always thought it would feel gross, or at the very least very, very uncomfortable.

Sam felt none of those negative emotions right now. No, he only felt heat, curling slowly in his stomach, skin tingling where Dean's hands had touched them over the clothes, mind unfocused and dizzy.

Lightheaded did not work for him, so he got himself together and started kissing Dean back, giving his big brother everything he had, pressing and rubbing and adding that teasing little cheeky flicker of his tongue, playing with Dean's tongue until his brother growled and shoved his hands up Sam's back, slipping into his hair and _pulling_.

Sam gasped as a jolt of what felt like electricity shot down his spine, and suddenly he was very aware of the massive hard on he was pressing into his brother's hip. Sam felt his cheeks flush red with embarrassment, because he wasn't supposed to be turned on by this, this was just pretend, just to make Dean's ex go away. But Dean wasn't pulling back, even though he must have felt the aching line of Sam's cock through his jeans. Quite the opposite, in fact.

Dean revved up like the Impala, a growl rumbling deep in his chest as he snapped his hips forward, stomach muscles grinding against Sam's clothed erection and even with Dean's two shirts and Sam's additional layers of boxers and jeans, it might as well have been naked humping, because Sam had never felt so sensitive just rubbing against someone like that.

Dean ducked his head to suck a bruise into Sam's neck, teeth nipping at the skin until Sam groaned. Sam let his head fall back, eyes closing, head swimming.

Huh.

So maybe lightheaded _did_ work for him, after all.

Another thrust of Dean's pelvis against his, and Sam felt that pull in his gut that meant he was probably going to cream his pants in public in about five seconds if it didn't pull back. With a regretful sigh and a mental reminder that riding all the way back to the motel with come-sticky boxers was not the way he had intended to spend his Thursday night, Sam put a hand between Dean's raised pectorals, right in the middle of his chest, and gave a hearty push.

Dilated green eyes bore into his own with so much heat Sam wondered how it was that nobody caught on fire yet just from Dean looking at them like that. Maybe it was because Sam was the only one Dean ever looked at like that. A happy, fluttery feeling made his stomach tense and his heart beat go out of rhythm for a few seconds.

"Not exactly proving your 'not gay' point here, brother," Dean said, and his voice was low and gravely and Sam's brain nearly went into overdrive just from the sound of that voice.

"Yeah, well, at least I can catch a tan in the sun without sizzling like a steak," Sam laughed, feeling giddy and hot and still a bit fuzzy around the edges. He couldn't believe what just happened.

What _did_ happen?

Were they going to talk about it?

"Are you saying I'm a prime piece of man meat, Sammy?" Dean asked, that same rough voice wired with a string of humor.

Sam grinned at his big brother, dimples digging into the muscles in his cheeks. "More like one of those bite-sized kebabs you can put in your mouth."

"I got something you can put in your mouth," Dean growled good-naturedly, slapping Sam's ass. Sam jumped, face on fire, shooting his best death glare at his brother, who just snickered darkly in return.

There was a silence that was not quite awkward as much as loaded and crackling with electricity. Sam couldn't keep looking into Dean's intent, knowledgeable eyes without feeling like he might suffocate or spontaneously combust, and Dean didn't seem bothered by that.

"Did she buy it?" Sam asked eventually, when the silence had stretched on long enough.

Dean's lips quirked in a wicked smile, eyebrow rising to complete the look Sam had long ago dubbed Dean's 'nothing-but-trouble' face, or 'jerkface' for short.

"Oh, yeah," Dean said, his tone amused for some reason Sam didn't think he could really think about without wanting to punch Dean's face in. "She bought it."

Sam considered the fact that he had looked every single person in this club up, down and sideways in search for weapons and ill-intent, goes over each person's face in his mind and taking into account the lack of new additions to the crowd in the space between his last scan of the room and Dean's impromptu Frenching fest – the door had remained in Sam's line of vision the entire time – and for the life of him he could not find a single woman who could possibly fit into the requirements of 'two hundred pounds' or 'sumo wrestler type'.

He should have known.

"Great," He said instead, meeting Dean's eyes for a brief second to let him know Sam was onto him and his little game, before lowering them to his shoes for a quick check that- well, fuck it, for a quick getaway.

"On second thought, it is getting kind of late," Dean leaned back to perch his ass on his stool. A quick look back showed Sam that his own stool had been taken while he had been… effectively distracted.

"It is," Sam agreed, because any course of events that would take them from here to a place with some privacy and a bed is more than acceptable.

"Wanna get out of here?"

Dean met Sam's eyes, and Sam didn't look away this time.

"Okay."


End file.
